


Devour

by Westpass



Series: Insomnia A.M. [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-12-26 22:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12068028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Westpass/pseuds/Westpass
Summary: Ultron wasn't the only monster created by the Mind Stone...What if Wanda wasn't as human as she pretended?(weird little fic idea that won't quit bugging me to write it out)





	1. Chapter 1

She's ready to fight.  
Of course the rest of the Avengers claim they don't want to hurt each other, they never do, but it's not as if that'll stop them.  
She won't let it.  
Fear's radiating off all of them, tastes sweet and fiery on her tongue. She licks a drop of stray blood off her lip as she sizes up the 'opposition.' 

Most of it's coming from Stark and Steve, of course, the ones that have put so much of themselves into their respective 'crusades' that they're a bare step away from the line that separates dedication from obsession. 

The masked boy who webbed up Steve's hands. He's young, hopeful and afraid and determined all at the same time. She decides to leave him for the moment. 

She's never liked killing children, it's a weakness her instructors at Hydra weren't able to eliminate. 

Cold waves of anger, sorrow, despair, pain wash over her as she and Clint dash across the runways, following Sam's directions. The crimson threads of magic slither out from beneath her skin, drinking it down. Strength fills her. She had to waste far too much energy subduing Vision. It might have been easier if she hadn't wanted to knock him down but leave him intact. Shielding him from the worst of the fall while she let Clint believe she was fully committed to overpowering their 'enemy'. 

Vision is _hers._ She won't throw him away. When all this is over, she'll find him.

She ducks as Iron Man intercepts them, lets Clint shield her. 

So, so tempting to suck him dry. But no. She wasn't hungry, and they might need him for something later. 

She shrugs, and pulls an avalanche of metal and glass down on top of him. 

Natasha, on the other hand, she's tired of. The former Red Room assassin watched her a little too closely, never let Wanda get all that close, never trusted her. 

She tolerates the Widow, enjoys feeling Clint's pulse race and his groin tighten when he and "Nat"are sparring or outright fighting, but really, the woman's willful blindness irks her. 

She tosses the woman into a shipping container, hides a smirk when pain spices the air. "You were pulling your punches," she tells Clint, impatiently. 

So many questions they don't think to ask, even if she'd never have told them the truth anyway. 

Why she would have grown _more_ powerful, rather than less, when the Mind Stone was out of her reach so often. Vision rarely fought or came on their missions, still distracted by the _newness_ of everything. She remembers how that feels, so she leaves him alone, lets herself take what she needs elsewhere. 

She remembers the first time she discovered that she needed fear, anger, lust, pain more than food or drink. She would starve, without, as had the other test subjects except for Pietro.  
Luckily, Strucker had realized that soon enough that she didn't become another of the casualties. There were always Hydra agents who were a little too clumsy, or stupid, or perhaps ambitious. Expendable.  
And of course, once she had better control over her powers, she'd gone hunting for herself. Hydra's enemies never saw her _or_ Pietro coming. 

Neither would the Avengers, when the time came.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it gets even creepier...  
> If you're a fan of Hawkeye, you might not like this chapter. Fair warning.

She kills Barton first, of course.

He's the weakest of them, mentally as well as physically. Loki's thrall four years ago had left him easily influenced, even by mere words with barely any magic behind them. He doesn't think twice when she talks him into a private 'sparring session'. 

She wonders if he really believed that _she_ thought his life was a fair trade for her brother's. 

They'd never discussed that. She listened to his condolences, his guilt/regret/relief thick and greasy and making her want to vomit, and waited. Pretended to be the child he sometimes thought of her.

She'd gone a decade planning to repay Stark for her parents, this wasn't even a challenge. 

So easy to provoke to anger. A few tart comments about his lack of faithfulness to his wife, their children. His lack of power, especially now. 

By the time he has any sense of the danger he's in, she just laughs at his attempts to fight back or escape.  
He stares up at her, face white as first winter snow, as she slits his throat with one of the arrows Stark had made him. 

Hydra's instructors had drilled it into her to cover her tracks.  
Wakanda's jungles have plenty of heavy foliage and soft ground to hide carrion. The scavengers will take care of it, eventually.

 

It's not difficult to convince the other Avengers that he's run off of his own volition, when he just isn't there one morning. That he went back to his family. 

Wanda doubts that Romanoff will be so easily convinced, but if Barton *had* gone to ground, it could take weeks or months to find him. Steve's been rambling about contacting Natasha or Stark, fixing the team. He hasn't done it yet. Stress makes even a super-soldier forgetful of minor details. 

Maybe she'll nudge him to make it sooner. 

The image of Natasha wearing that damned collar, or one like it, is one she's imagined and taken pleasure in for the last several nights. 

She sits in a bench outside the Wakandan royal palace, daydreaming, guitar resting silently in her lap.

A coughing growl makes her glance up. 

A sleek, golden-eyed panther watches her from the tree line bordering the grounds. Beautiful and deadly. Wanda inclines her head, smiling without showing teeth.  
_I won't take your prey,_ she tells the other predator silently. _There's plenty for us both._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What goes around, comes around...

Nat reappears two weeks after Barton "went AWOL." 

Wanda acts as if she's relieved to see the woman. She is, and in an anticipatory mood that she has to keep hidden behind a 'scared little girl' mask. She asks about Stark, about the Raft. Steve reassures her that she's never going back there, so does the Black Widow. 

Sam is happy, and Steve enthusiastic and hopeful for the first time since they reached Wakanda. 

Lang is oddly silent--maybe he feels excluded. He and Sam had become friendly, and so had he and Clint, but ...

Wanda catches him looking at her once, but he won't meet her eyes, and not long after that he excuses himself from the gathering. 

When she stops by his room later that night, it's deserted. 

_Playing hard to get, are you, little ant?_

She tracks him, his emotions--fear, uncertainty--anger?--tugging her along. 

The trail leads her to the throne room used by the Wakandan Monarchs. It's dark, the only illumination moonlight glittering off bits of silver and iron adorning the walls. 

"You know, I was in prison before the Raft." Lang's voice comes from somewhere ahead of her. Wanda blinks, momentarily put off. She can't get a fix on him. There's a strange low humming, inside her head as well as pressing against her ears. It's cold.

"No. I didn't know that... Are you okay?" her voice soft, concerned, as she glances around. 

"Years of it. And I learned a few tricks. Like what it looks like when someone's pretending to be something they're really not. How to get into and out of a place unnoticed-- _especially_ in the middle of a fight."

Something cold and metallic drops to the tiled floor. 

Clint's bow...with his severed hand still wrapped around it. 

The humming grows louder, turns to a feline growl.

She turns to see a pair of glowing yellow, slit-pupiled eyes staring her down.

A man's figure rises from the throne, stalking toward them.

T'Challa.

" _The Panther,_ a voice hisses. _"Did you not even think that some of our legends might hold the truth, demon?_ " 

She flinches as if struck, lets tears fill her eyes. "Demon? Scott--I'm your friend--"

"Like you were Clint's friend?" he interrupts harshly. 

She raises her hands, bloody scarlet light flooding the room. 

He's seen too much. She needs to shut his mouth, permanently, then leave here. 

Her magic has no chance to reach any of them. The Panther's snarl deafens her, as it lunges forward...

 _"There is no place here for your kind, oathbreaker."_

Magics clash, scarlet and ebony, as she struggles to keep fangs from her throat. So strong--but with an acid taste to it that burns her. _Purity to your corruption,_ a little thought whispers. 

Then there's the loud crack of a firearm, and suddenly she can't feel her body anymore.

She falls. 

It takes a moment before she realizes that the crimson stuff pooling beneath her isn't magic.

The darkness swirls around her, icy fingers clutching, and she hears hate-filled laughter as she closes her eyes.

 

Steve Rogers lowers the gun he holds. He watches long enough to be sure his target isn't moving, isn't going to move. 

"I thank you," he says, though part of him almost chokes on the words as he says it, meeting the Panther's stare--and T'Challa's. "But I brought her within your walls, it's for me and mine to settle this."

Scott's face is pale, shocked, as is Nat's. "I...didn't see that coming," Scott says finally. 

"No. Neither did she. " Rogers' gaze sweeps over them. 

He walks to the spot where Wanda lies, puts the barrel of the gun against her forehead, and pulls the trigger a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And wow. I'm getting the idea y'all REALLY wanted me to kill Wanda in this story? *grins*


	4. Chapter 4

She's frozen. 

It's all she can feel. She can't open her eyes, can't move at all. 

She hears voices, Sam's, Steve's, a feline hissing that makes her want to scream in remembered fury, and...

_VIZ??! Is that you? Please...help me..._

Cool, vibranium infused fingers touch her forehead.

_You were feeding off Stark. Before he left, stopped coming to the Compound._ His voice is clear. 

_I had to...I need that. Always._

_And you assumed that my...attraction to you, would convince me to overlook your harming my creator? Or our family?_ He sounds no more than mildly curious and puzzled. _I don't understand that. Perhaps I'll ask Natasha. She seems the most skilled at manipulation of others, even lacking enhancement._

_Vision?_

_Goodbye, Wanda._

She feels herself lifted, carried like a sack of potatoes. 

Tries to struggle, to reach for her magic, but a hum of dark magic and a blaze from the Mind Stone cut her off from the power. 

She's set down on something, hard and rough... 

A pile of wood? 

Light, and heat, pierces her eyelids. 

_No_

_What?_

_Don't!  
Don't...cremate me..._

_I'm not dead...._

She screams, unheard, as a torch is dropped onto oil soaked wood. 

The Avengers walk away, not looking back. 

Android and Bast's avatar watch, unblinking, until just before sunrise, when a gust of wind carries ashes away. 


End file.
